


Backbeat

by asyndese



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930/40s, A Bit of Fingering, Angst, Bottom Bucky, Denial of Feelings, Drunk Sex, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shameless Smut, The Utter Destruction of Bucky Barnes' Heterosexuality, Top Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asyndese/pseuds/asyndese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk and horny, Bucky had meant it as a joke, honest to god. How could he have known that Steve would take him up on his plead for a helping hand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my darling [Dee](http://slippeddee.tumblr.com), who has been so encouraging and helpful and cheering me on when I've been perving out. Also lots of gratitude for my betas [WaterandWin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterandWin/pseuds/WaterandWin) and [Donshin](http://donshin.tumblr.com/) for their corrections and excellent help. Any remaining stupidity is entirely my own.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, and her mouth all red from her smeared lipstick, Evelyn was a true American sweetheart. She could dance like the devil and kiss like an angel, and she'd been his all night, letting herself be twirled around and even taking the lead a couple of times. But once she had had enough of that, she pulled Bucky into the shadows for less proper activities that she clearly had not learned at Sunday school. Away from prying eyes she had sighed really nicely into his hair, pulling at it sharply as he cupped the back of one round thigh and worked her tight little cunt with the other. Yet despite his best efforts and sweetest of kisses, she never returned the favor.

After clamping down on his fingers slickly in a near silent orgasm, she just straightened her dress and finding him fidgeting with his belt next to her, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips and turned him by his shoulders to shove him back into the swaying mass of the dance hall.

"I'll see you around, James," she called after his confused, staggering form.

They both knew she wouldn't, no matter how much she'd liked his hands under her skirt and his mouth on her throat, but Bucky was nothing if not a gentleman, and although he felt cheated out of a good time, he bit his tongue. No need to cause a scene and much as he would have loved to, he didn't say a word to any of the guys lingering at the bar either as he ordered a scotch on the rocks and then another and another, this time without the rocks, until his money ran out. He wasn't the type to kiss and tell, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Alcohol always made him more talkative, and a sympathetic ear might have eased his stumbling way home.

The whole affair had effectively killed his boner at any rate, though the lingering ache in his groin accompanied him longer than his resentment for Evelyn, which quickly dissipated into the cool night air. Couldn't fault a girl for saying no, that ain't right. He sure didn’t have it in him to force her, and the whole thing would’ve been wrong anyhow. He'd never be able to look at himself in the mirror if he had.

Wasn’t much a joe like him could do, so Bucky figured he'd take it home and into his own bed if nobody else would, anticlimactic and disappointing as that was. Just be done with it and the world in general. Seemed as good a plan as any. It wasn’t like Evelyn would run after him suddenly, having changed her mind on the matter.

Then again, it wasn't the usual time he came home after a night out and he'd hate for Steve to be cross with him. What if he woke up from Bucky going down dirty on himself?

"Naaah," Bucky said to nobody in particular, waving his hand in front of his face too enthusiastically. Steve probably wouldn't mind, he always slept through that shit like a stone and never mentioned anything in the morning. It would have been enough to make Bucky wonder if the guy even knew what jerking off was if he didn’t already know the answer. Quite intimately, in fact. Yeah, he’d had heard Steve’s choked-off, rough gasps during the night dozens of times when he rubbed one out and thought Bucky was asleep. And wasn't that a thought right there?

Snickering to himself, he swayed his way up the stairs with a heavy hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The outside lamp had burned out over a month ago with nobody caring enough to repair it and Bucky had to fumble with the house keys in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. His fingers, apparently, were not quite up for the task. Cursing, he nearly fell over stooping down to get them back. When he finally managed them into the lock the damn door refused to budge, the stupid thing.

"Every goddamn time," he mumbled angrily. It had the nasty habit of needing a little extra shouldering with each weather change and Steve would doubtlessly stand up in his bed by the time he made it through. He fell into their apartment with a clatter, stumbling around in the dark to catch his precarious balance and bumping his shins into every furniture they owned.

"Drat," he cursed under his breath, rubbing his toes and hobbling to where the light shone under the doorway to their bedroom, landing face-first onto the nearest bed he could locate upon entering, uncaring whether it was his or vacant.

"You're home early," Steve said in accusatory confusion and judging by the rasp in his voice, he had fallen asleep reading with the lights on again. The table lamp Buck had nicked from the public library cast the room in a green light, painting Steve softer than he was as he wrinkled his nose at how noisy Bucky had been, how much he probably smelled like liquor and cigarette smoke.

Bucky just blinked at him owlishly from between the blankets.

"Like hell. Get in your own bed," Steve grunted and dug sharp fingernails into his elbow to wrench him up into a sitting position. But Bucky felt like a wet sack and slumped back against Steve again, burying his face into one bony shoulder. From under his lashes, he watched Steve with a bemused smirk, noting the wild hair and the crease-marks from the pillow patterning his cheek.

"Was a goddamn tease, that girl," he mumbled groggily as a form of greeting, explanation and apology wrapped all in one.

"Was she now?" Steve huffed a resigned sigh when Bucky didn't move an inch. With the apartment spinning slowly around him, all he did was to move an uncoordinated hand to pet Steve's cheek and hair.

"Yeah, moaned all pretty and let me—"

"Don't wanna hear it, Bucky," Steve shoved his hand to the side and out of the way to struggle with Bucky's arms and his jacket since Bucky wouldn't lift a single finger to help undress himself. Couldn't, he felt too comfortable right where he was.

"—let me finger her but wouldn't even touch me anywhere near my—"

"Shut up and move, you big lug," Steve interrupted his train of thought. He punched him right in the kidney for emphasis, too, and Bucky rolled over with a groan, holding his side. Steve could be incredibly cold and efficient when he wanted to be but at least it got Bucky’s jacket off.

"Shoulda come with me," he wheezed, not putting up much resistance when Steve yanked at his shoes. Steve’s fingertips were cool against the heel of his foot when he pulled his socks off. "Least it woulda been fun."

"Right." Steve was wholly unimpressed by his flattering as he crawled up Bucky’s body again to loosen his tie, scarred knuckles brushing along the underside of his jaw, before unbuttoning his shirt, too. There was a displeased frown on his face and Bucky felt stupidly smug for putting it there.

"Yeah, you're a riot when you wanna be," he murmured. Lifting his head a little, he watched Steve's progress down his chest. Steve hovered above him like a warm, familiar shadow, dressed in boxers and a shirt that smelled of soap and sleep, a little too big for his frame. Bucky felt tempted to push the neckline further down one shoulder, to reveal more of his skin. He didn't, of course, just kept his hands under his head, breathing slow and even and into the soft press of Steve's fingers against his stomach.

"Good company," he added, his tongue feeling too thick for his mouth.

"Nobody wants to see my mug at the dance hall," Steve dismissed him with a shrug as he yanked Bucky’s shirt tails out of his trousers.

Steve's hands had always been surprisingly large for him—sturdy with thick wrists—and having them tug at his belt made Bucky suck in a breath. He held completely still, only half mortified, as his arousal flooded back and pooled low in his groin. To have someone finally touch him, undress him... his cock didn't make much of a distinction between gal or guy when it came down to it. Steve running cursory palms over Bucky's thighs didn't help one bit, either.

When Steve folded his trousers and put them on the chair with the rolled up pair of his socks, Bucky adjusted himself as inconspicuously as he could without drawing Steve's attention.

"I do," he slurred a little belatedly.

"Yeah, because you're a sap." Steve's voice was all grim satisfaction and he jabbed him in the stomach, knowing he'd get back at Bucky sooner or later. If Steve liked one thing, it was justice served.

"Aww, don't be like that," Bucky said, pushing himself up on his elbows, awfully aware of himself when Steve settled over him again, straddling one of his legs. It made him flush from head to toe, tingling at every point of contact, from Steve's inner thigh pressed warm and close against the outside of his own, to the carefully balanced weight of his ass just brushing over his knee.

There was no way Steve could have missed the solid line of his erection in his skivvies now, but he didn’t give any indication that he had noticed, not even a snarky remark, and instead pushed the shirt off Bucky's shoulder like he'd done a dozen times before. The thumbs along his inner arms felt like a caress, and Bucky wasn't quite sure if it was the alcohol messing with his perception or something else entirely.

Once his shirt was off, Steve nodded, saying "Uh huh," absentmindedly before he hooked his fingers under Bucky's undershirt. "Arms up."

Bucky obeyed wordlessly, letting Steve clumsily pull the wife beater over his head and not even caring that it tousled his carefully combed hair in the process.

"Half-naked and in your bed and I haven't even been kissed tonight," Bucky joked, but his heart wasn't in it. Not with Steve's palm resting low on his abdomen for a second too long.

"Sure, Barnes. That's why there's lipstick on you." And the mood was all wrong when Steve rubbed a thumb over his lower lip, catching some of it.

"There is?" He found his voice between two heartbeats—a little too broken, a little too late—hands twitching restlessly in the bedding and mouth burning from the touch.

"You always come home looking like a home-wrecker," Steve said far too easily, almost bitter, and shifted his weight just enough to be a suggestion. Bucky could feel his cock throb in answer. It took all sense of duty to their friendship not to arch up, to pull the other man's hand down to where he needed it. But then Steve was off of him, shoving at his hip with one foot to kick him out of bed.

"Hey," Bucky said and grabbed at him for balance, catching him around his biceps. The muscle was wiry and solid and he couldn't stop running his hand over Steve's upper arm, a little mesmerized.

"Can't just kick a fella out like this."

"C'mon Bucky," Steve sighed, "it's late."

"What if I want some premium cuddle time to help me sleep?" he tried, eyes big and pleading. Steve just groaned and shook Bucky's hand off but didn't try to kick him out again.

"I'll show you a really swell time," he pressed. Wasn't the first time they shared a bed in camaraderie and for that extra warmth in winter, and Bucky wasn't entirely sure he'd make the walk over to his own corner without falling over anyway.

"I’m flattered by the offer," Steve said, his mouth an unimpressed line on his face as he looked down, pointedly, at Bucky's lap. "But I ain't your dame."

Bucky would have had to be blind to miss the judgment in that gesture and he ducked his head, feeling like an idiot, but not enough to stop the words from falling out.

"Well yeah, just—," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting Steve’s eyes. "Help me out here, Steve. That's what friends do, right? It's no big deal." There was no way of taking any of it back. All or nothing, then.

"Not a—? _Jesus_ ," Steve swore and rubbed his face, but he didn't say anything else—just sat there. Bucky could tell Steve was undecided so he seized the opportunity to push his luck, draping one heavy arm around Steve's shoulders like he would any other day, ignoring the way Steve jerked under his the touch with a doubtful shift of his eyes.

"How much did you have?" Steve asked, a little stiffly. He was tense under Bucky's arm but didn't tell him to stop either when Bucky ran his nose along his hairline and behind his ear, breathing him in.

"'Am only messing with ya, pal—," he slurred.

"Sure doesn't feel like it," Steve muttered, wavering on offended and shoved Bucky off and down until he lay in a sprawled heap on the bed, a little flustered and too turned on to think entirely straight.

"How _much_ , Bucky?" Steve insisted.

"A few," Bucky lied, if only a little, squirming under Steve's doubtful stare.

"You know what you’re asking there?"

"I know who you are, if that’s what you mean," Bucky scoffed, angry at how the bravado was starting to dissipate with Steve’s stubbornness and constant insistency on proper etiquette. "Ain’t that stupid."

"Really?" Steve said in that rough, considering baritone of his. His eyes took in the whole uninterrupted line of Bucky's chest and Bucky felt his heart give a nervous lurch.

"C’mon, I know you wanna. Rugged guy like me asking for it. Best offer you can get tonight," Bucky grinned in drunken honesty. He didn’t think Steve would take him up on it and he was wholly unprepared for the cool hand smoothing over his lower abdomen in a heavy caress, nails catching at the hair there.

"Can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this," Steve muttered to himself as if this was just another double-date Bucky wanted to set him up on. And maybe Bucky had thought about it now and then when he was too exhausted to stop the images flooding his mind or when he was jerking off and anything was welcome to help him over the brink but—

He had never truly meant to put it into practice. It was just fooling around, they'd laugh about this in the morning about how handsy Bucky had got in his stupor and he could go back to ignoring the bone-deep ache whenever Steve was around. Yet when Steve looked at him from under those long lashes and dark eyebrows like that, his hair a golden crown in the lamplight, Bucky knew he'd never be able to laugh about that look. About Steve's hands on him nor about his own, badly staged come-ons.

"If you don't wanna, it's alright." He could feel a flush creeping up his face when Steve sneaked his hand lower unflinchingly, along the seam of his thigh, palming him through his underwear. It sent Bucky’s hips surging up into the touch on reflex with his breath catching in his throat.

"Just this once," Steve warned. His voice had gone low, in control, and it made Bucky shiver as much as the gentle squeeze around his aching cock.

"Okay," he nodded quickly as he fisted the blankets, the need weighing heavily on his tongue.

"Because we're friends." Steve reiterated. He wouldn't meet his eyes, looking at the column of his bared throat instead, the springy hair on his chest, and following the trail down. Bucky’s whole body went tense with anticipation.

"Yeah, fuck," Bucky managed, half-broken, and touched Steve's elbow with shaking fingertips as Steve stroked him, slow and deliberate. The fabric was at once too rough and not enough. "Stevie, please," he begged. He felt his ears burn, so unused to having to ask for what he wanted.

"Haven't been Stevie'd since 4th grade," Steve said half-amused, half-affronted but not enough to stop his hand.

The breath along Bucky's skin was the only warning he got before Steve bent down to mouth above his navel. His hot tongue licked over the muscle there before running lower, nose bumping into Bucky’s hipbone and breathing him in. Bucky couldn't stand it one bit. He had to push at the waistband of his boxers—down, down—just far enough until his cock sprang free, flushed and curving up his belly in a rigid arch.

Steve was hooking his fingers into the waistband, pulling it down slowly to Bucky’s ankles like a fucking tease while his lips glided along his pelvis in the same, slow pace. Not much help at all, but it tickled a shivery moan out of him all the same.

He needed—but then Steve's hands were there, too, interlocking with his own desperate fist around the base of his cock. Together they jerked Bucky quickly and efficiently with Steve's mouth too close, just right, brushing over Bucky's knuckles in a damp imitation of a kiss.

"Yes, oh hell," he groaned, unable to stop running his mouth, not with the rough slide of Steve's tongue against the underside of his cock. Maybe he should have been more surprised at the other man's lack of shame, how he took to jacking him with a single minded determination so typically _Steve_ —but then he sucked at two of Bucky's fingers an upward twist and that train of thought was gone.

"Tha'sit, Christ, that's good," he breathed. The inside of Steve's mouth was scalding. The scratch of teeth along the pads of his fingers was a hint of what could be and impossible to resist.

"Ain't gonna blow you, Buck," Steve admonished at the heavy hand Bucky'd laid in his nape to guide his mouth down.

"Okay, yeah sorry," Bucky nodded with his eyes half-closed and combed Steve's hair out of his face instead, smoothing a thumb over one thick eyebrow, down the crook of his nose. "Whatever you want, doll."

Steve snorted derisively and swiped a thumb under the head, circling his girth in a loose fist in an unhurried, demanding rhythm. He'd never really pictured another man's hands on his private parts, even if he’d thought about Steve sometimes. Always figured it'd be bearable, nice at most, just like jerking off, but it wasn't like that. Not one bit. Steve's lingering touch was nowhere in the same league, sure and immediate. The callouses of his hand caught at the foreskin just right and Bucky’s hips came up, chasing the fleeting touch until Steve tightened his grip, letting him rut into it. The feel of Steve’s steady hands pulled the breath out of his chest like fish hooks, and when Steve tugged at his balls sharply, Bucky bit down on his bottom lip to keep all the undignified noises at bay.

"You're so responsive," Steve's voice sounded like he'd swallowed gravel. He thumbed at Bucky’s bottom lip, coaxing it free from under his teeth to circle the red O of his mouth and pushing in.

"Please," Bucky choked, too wired up to do anything but beg with Steve's thumb salty on his tongue.

"What do you need?" Steve asked, as if Bucky had the words for it.

"I’m— I want—," he started but seeing Steve taste his own thumb, tasting _Bucky_ , shut him right up, it did. His head swam with the implications as much as the alcohol. When Steve touched the corners of Bucky’s mouth again, pressing in just far enough to be considered a silly accident, he grabbed his wrist. With his heart thundering in his chest, Bucky drew the long fingers in deeper, over his palate, dooming them both as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking on them as if—

Steve must have had the same train of thought, because he was turning unbearably pink at the gesture as he watched Bucky's tongue lap wetly between his knuckles with an intensity that sparked down his spine and shot directly to his dick. Slipping his fingers free, he brushed them over his swollen bottom lip suggestively and all Bucky could hear was the blood rushing between his ears. Steve’s fingers went lower, over the heavy pulse in his throat, his cock and further still, trailing behind and up his crack.

" _Fuck, that's—_ ," Bucky gasped, hips angling up on their own accord. It felt downright filthy but he didn't pull away entirely, twisting his hips to meet the movement of Steve's slick fingers, muscles tensing at the curious, firm pressure against his hole threatening to breach him. For a terrified moment he thought he would.

But no, Steve wouldn't do that, he wasn't a fairy, no matter his big eyes and wispy frame. He wasn't, Bucky knew for a _fact_ —and anyways, he had never given him any indication that he might like that type of thing to begin with. Least of all with Bucky. He _wouldn't_ , Bucky tried to assure himself, even as the gentle, spit-slick press against the furled skin of his asshole lit him up like a firework. And that was just sick, wasn't it? Coming from another guy fingering him like he was some invert who liked that sorta stuff. Like he was some broad he'd taken home on a drunken night. He would have laughed, hysterical, if it hadn't felt so good. He ground down into the touch, eyes squeezed shut and lashes clumping together as he arched up in earnest.

"Please, Stevie, I can't—" he moaned, his mouth gone slack with pleasure. There was no way in hell that he'd return from this unscathed. He tried breathing through it, shaky, but felt as if he were falling apart at each titillating press and each slick rub along his rim.

"Breathe," Steve's voice was a landslide, burying Bucky under it. "Slow and easy, that's it."

It took Bucky a moment to catch his bearing, to let go Steve's shoulder where his fingernails had left red welts in the skin, to unlock his legs from crushing Steve’s waist. But Steve didn't seem to mind, just stared at him with an expression Bucky couldn't read until he came back from the edge he’d been toeing so dangerously close.

"You alright?" Steve asked, earnest and too concerned as if Bucky could break from this. He was as flushed as Bucky felt all the way down to his chest, with hair just as mussed and pupils blown wide, breathing hard.

"Yeah," he nodded, only half-coherent through the fog in his brain as he watched Steve's gaze flicker between Bucky’s eyes and mouth. _So that’s how it was_ , Bucky thought and stretched, licking his lips demonstratively.

"Like what you see?" he slurred just as Steve lowered his head a fraction, pausing. He looked ready to reconsider. Taking the decision from him, Bucky ran his hand under Steve's shirt and up his back, mouth parting and meeting him half-way, moaning at the first brush of tongues. Curling his hand between his shoulder blades, he pressed him further down into a stubble-rough kiss. 

It felt like nothing he'd imagined, doing it with another fella. Straightforward and less careful than with a dame, not as soft or as pliable. There was no senseless teasing or baiting with Steve, who wasn't as terrible at it as Bucky had always pictured him, and he knew just when to yield, and when to tilt his head. Their noses bumped only once and under his hands, Bucky could feel him heating up rapidly as Steve strained into each kiss like he'd been starved for it, licking his way inside hungrily with one hand clutching at the headboard as if afraid to let go.

"C'mere, closer," Bucky murmured into the intimate space between their faces.

"I'm here," Steve replied smugly.

Impatient, Bucky reached for him by the hips and rucked up his shirt, then yanked at the collar. Wanting to know he wasn't the only one enjoying himself. Steve didn't slap him away immediately, which Bucky took as a good sign. He quickly divested Steve of his shirt, which landed somewhere at the foot of the bed.

Running his hands unhindered over Steve's sides felt easy. This, he could handle. Being in control was familiar, and he savored the quick intake of Steve’s breath as he scratched his soft belly, pinching the pink nubs of his nipples and smirking when they grew stiff under his insistent fingers.

"Quit it, Barnes," Steve spit, but moved into the stinging touch regardless as red splotches bloomed across his chest.

If Bucky would have to bet money on it, he'd say with the proper attention, Steve would even blush all the way to the tip of his dick. Glancing down, Bucky noted the tent in his skivvies and the dark patch where he leaked into the cotton. His mouth went dry at the sight, and he felt like an idiot for it. Of course Steve would be affected by their sloppy fumbling; he wasn't made of stone even if he had the stubbornness of one, but _oh_ Steve was big—bigger than his frame would suggest anyway, heavy and straining into Bucky’s fingers when he cupped him between his legs.

"That for me, buddy?" he asked, all smirk and forced casualness, refusing to acknowledge the embarrassed flutter in his abdomen.

"Don't have to," Steve offered but Bucky would have none of that. He wrenched Steve up with one hand under his armpit to guide him into another kiss which Steve shamelessly used to suck on Bucky’s tongue only to move on to the cleft in Bucky’s chin as if he didn't know what part of Bucky to devour first. When Steve pulled back it was to catch the skin of Bucky’s jaw with his teeth and suck a pointed mark at the junction of his shoulder that he would have no way of hiding come morning.

"Yeah, I do," Bucky replied when he eventually found his voice, distracted by Steve's open and greedy mouth at his throat. "Your dick feels incredible, you know that?"

"Shut _up_. Christ—" But his head dropped onto Bucky's shoulder. Under his palm Steve's ass was tight, a little fuzzy but otherwise smooth, the back of his thighs warm and sweaty where Bucky groped at them. It didn't take much at all, just some persuasive pressure against his rear for Steve to push his own underwear down in a frenzy. Bucky helped tug them down the rest of Steve’s thighs, letting them pool around his knees like some over-eager teenager.

Steve, Bucky learned, was bossy and wholly unashamed in his needs as he grabbed for Bucky's wrist to place it around his cock. His forehead felt feverish against Bucky's collarbone and he secured his grip with a squeeze, rasping syllables at the first real, unhindered touch, as if he'd waited for it this entire time.

"That's it, doll," Bucky grunted, his rough knuckles bumping into his own neglected cock with each stroke of Steve.

"Not your—not your date," Steve reminded, the rigid dragging sticky through Bucky’s fist. He realized with a jolt how close they were then, with Steve's smell right in his nose, Steve’s breath ghosting along his chest and his wiry arms bracketing Bucky’s head.

"Yeah?" Bucky couldn't help whispering into Steve's ear, desire palpable between them. "You wanna be?"

If he had considered himself in control, he was thoroughly mistaken. Steve pulled back enough to press him into the bedding, bearing down on him with his weight in a sudden show of determination.

"That what you wanted?" Steve asked in a voice Bucky didn't recognize, eyes almost angry as he arranged Bucky's legs around his hips, yanking their hips closer. With a rough hand under his thigh, he canted his hips up to grind down into his groin. "For me to bed you like another broad? To show you _a swell time_?"

"Shit," was all Bucky could manage, utterly humiliated and fraying at the edges, Steve's cock against his own feeling too wanton, too good, a branding iron. And maybe it was his own fault, for taunting Steve, for baiting him but nothing could have possibly prepared him for this. _Nothing_. How Steve didn't seem frail and small at all between his legs, smelling like sex and man and corruption. His movements were powerful, sharp thrusts. It was almost as if he had anticipated Bucky's need for being trapped under his large hands, forcing Bucky to take his weight, forcing him to yield. There was nothing Bucky could but groan and fist the pillows above him until his biceps bulged with the effort of holding on.

The inside of his thighs ached with how much he spread his legs for Steve's powerful thrusts along the seam of his hip, their stomachs coming together over and over again in sweaty intimacy. It felt like a blow to the stomach, how much this looked like wanton fucking with Steve gasping above him. Steve aligning them in a broad hand without further preamble, elicited a hiss from them both and the jerky movements of Steve's lower arm went through Bucky with a jolt.

"Oh, _fuck_ me," Bucky groaned, letting go of the pillow to cling to Steve's nape and upper arm instead.

"That's the, _ah_ , idea. Helping h-hand, remember?" Steve's exhale felt almost cool compared to the red flush glowing on Bucky's face.

The tendons in Steve’s lower arm stood out with how firmly he held them, twisting his fist at each down stroke, hurting good. The precome made it just slick enough, and Bucky was acutely aware of the dull throbbing in time with Steve's pulse. Steve’s his hurried, strained breathing was so quiet compared to Bucky's full voiced moaning, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't keep the noises in.

"Yes, right there—" he groaned, achingly close and burying his face in Steve's neck. There was sweat breaking out on his chest and over his brow from Steve's heat smothering him for once. 

"I got you," Steve grit, before crowding him in, spit-slick mouth too pink and swollen, tugging at the thick hair curling behind Bucky's ear to coax him into a dirty brush of tongues that tasted of sin and heat and made him clutch at Steve. Boxing his narrow hips in between his thighs with his ankles cross over Steve’s calves, he grabbed at one sharp shoulder blade to anchor himself in a desperate attempt to hold on. Just a little longer, to not be the first— But he could feel it travelling down his spine, making his toes curl at the dirty noises of Steve's punctuated gasps, the way their balls kept slapping with each powerful thrust up that dragged sounds from him he’d be hard pressed to admit to tomorrow.

"Stevie, I gotta—I'm gonna—"

"I know, babe. C'mon. Show me," Steve urged him, voice wrecked and hips stuttering when Bucky grabbed his ass, hitching him up tighter against him. No turning back now. Steve's hand between his shoulders made sure of that, keeping him in place as he used his bruising grip for leverage, trying to work out which angle was best. There was no way, no way in hell he was going to make it much longer; the tell-tale sign coiling low in his abdomen, making him shiver every time Steve smoothed the length of his thumb over both their heads.

"You're so lost right now, aren’t you?" Steve rasped, lips brushing over the whirls of his ear, mouthing at the shell. "Damn, Buck, wish you'd let me do you." The whispered suggestion hit Bucky like a freight train, tipping him over with a shaky moan.

" _Oh god_." Bucky muffled the gratified noises into Steve's shoulder, pulling at the hair in Steve’s nape as his orgasm ripped through him like a whip in a scalding splash; ropes of come coated Steve's knuckles, some of it even landed on his chest and the underside of his chin as Steve gentled him through it. He could feel it in his toes. He couldn’t believe he had ended up a feverish and shaking mess in the middle of Steve's bed with Steve's thick cock and hands and mouth responsible for ruining him.

"There you go," Steve said with a crooked grin, but it looked all wrong on his face as he gathered some of the mess between their stomachs. Bucky could only watch on, panting, while Steve fisted himself efficiently. His wet fingers flew over his cock until he came with a raw whimper, teeth bared. His come smeared over Bucky's hip, catching in the hair below his navel. Its tangy, salty smell was almost suffocating.

Secretly, Bucky loved it.

"Whew," he wheezed. He felt utterly fucked out with the dull throb of bruises forming; loose and ready to sink into the mattress at any notice. Closing his eyes, he ignored the way Steve’s words kept replaying in his head, how it made his stomach jump. Instead, he tried to focus on the arm he had draped around the other man's waist after he had dropped on him like a sack of bricks. Whoever considered Steve a lightweight clearly had never lain crushed under him; it knocked the damn breath right out of him but it felt comfortable, easy. Like trouble. For the longest minute they both just lay, trying to catch their breath.

"Hey, Buck," Steve said after what felt like an eternity of nothing, lifting his head off Bucky’s shoulder.

"Mhm?" Bucky asked, a little groggily, cracking one eye to peer at him. His armpits felt tacky and the sheets kept sticking to his back. Belatedly, he wiped the cooling spunk off his stomach with his wrist, making a face. He probably stunk like a brothel but he couldn't find the energy to get up and shower. Steve didn’t to mind either and that was good enough for him.

Something was poking him the spine, though, and he fished out a book from between the sheets, reading the letters of the title for a confused moment. _A Farewell to Arms_. Of course. Steve snatched it out of his hands and placed it carefully on the nightstand, worrying at a bend in the cover.

"You ready for bed now?" he asked, glancing up, his hair plastered to his forehead in a sweaty curl. Cute.

"Yeah, you've been so good to me," Bucky joked and wrapped one arm around Steve’s waist to roll them both to the side. Steve allowed it, surprisingly enough. Even went so far as to stretch in the loose embrace like a cat in the sun.

"And you better not forget it," Steve said with a self-satisfied arch to his eyebrows.

"Toldya I'd show you a great time," Bucky smirked back and gave into the temptation of rubbing his nose along Steve's jaw affectionately, into the slight stubble there.

"Not funny," Steve whispered harshly between their faces, embarrassment coming off of him in waves, but he didn't push Bucky away either. Instead, he just curled his hands against his belly, eyes cast down. His asthma must have caught up to him if the sudden quick puffs of breath were anything to go by.

"Stevie, _breathe_ ," Bucky murmured, thumb coming to rest in the dip below his bottom lip. Instead of the anticipated kiss, Steve cuffed him around the ears for his audacity. Not asthma, then.

"Just go the fuck to sleep, Bucky."

Bucky figured it was the best he could get for trying to be sweet on him.

* * *

It didn't feel like much time had passed until he woke up with his face pressed into his numb hand, the room dark and stuffy. When had Steve turned off the light? He couldn't even remember, groggy and disoriented as he was with his stomach churning. Rolling around, he stretched in the narrow bed, rubbing the blood back into his lower arm and noting the warm, empty spot to his right. In the hallway, the floorboards creaked under Steve's light footsteps. Bucky listened for the opening and closing of doors, the gurgling noise of the pipes when Steve flushed after a few minutes. There was light coming from under the door, drilling into Bucky’s brain and he closed his eyes against it until it went off and Steve returned from rummaging in the kitchen.

"Here," he said when he saw Bucky pushing himself up into an unstable sitting position. He smelled like fresh soap and Listerine, his fingers still wet from washing his face. "Drink this." He'd chosen the biggest water glass they owned and pressed it into Bucky's palm like the good Samaritan he was.

"Shit, how late is it?" Bucky asked, holding it against his overheating forehead and cheeks before he took a sip. And then another. He didn't realize how thirsty he had been until he had emptied it in a few big gulps.

"'bout three," Steve replied with a shrug. He was back in his sleeping clothes and opening the window to let in fresh air. The breeze alleviated some of Bucky's nausea and, putting the glass on the nightstand, he fell back into Steve's bed with a groan. The world was spinning around him and he didn't like it one bit.

"How do you feel?" Steve asked.

"Splendid." He rubbed the heels of his hand over his eyes, mussing up his hair even more until it was a perfect imitation of a crow's nest. He'd be useless tomorrow.

"Then put on your underwear and go back to your own bed," Steve said and threw the garment into his face.

He caught it with a "Yeah, yeah," but there was a quiver to his hands when he pulled his boxers over his ass. God. His face and mouth still tingled and his sides were a little sore from where Steve had clutched at him too roughly. If he thought more about what they'd done, the tight knot in his chest would unfurl into something dangerous that tasted too much like desire and not at all like the easy affection of friendship. This hadn't meant anything, right? It couldn't.

But Steve was watching him intently, that little crease between his eyebrows prominent in the glow of the streetlight coming through the window and Bucky asked anyways, voice small and more vulnerable than he would have liked.

"Can't I stay?"

"Gee, Buck. You reek like a whole gin mill down at the docks."

"Wow ouch. No need to be insulting."

Steve just planted his hands onto his hips and stared down at his naked feet in consideration, or avoidance. Or both. Easier to not look at Bucky's face at any rate.

"I just... it's not a good idea. Right now." Though Bucky had braced himself for it, the rejection still stung.

"Alright," Bucky said carefully, feeling sick to his stomach for reasons that had distinctly nothing to do with his imminent hangover and hating himself for it.

The silence was almost crushing. Steve tilted his head back, sighing, and rubbed his face as if he didn't want to have this discussion. Hell, Bucky didn't want it either, not here and not now. He got up and crawled into his own, cold bed that didn't smell like sex and sweat and Steve. It smelled clean. Lonely.

"Don't worry 'bout it, pal," he added to the wall so he could avoid looking at Steve standing in the middle of their room, lost and a little forlorn and almost apologetic in the dark. "Ain't nothing to it."

"Thanks," Steve replied tightly and Bucky listened for the rustle of the sheets, the creak of the mattress when Steve's weight settled into it. He gave a short sniff, almost a deep breath and Bucky couldn't read that noise at all.

"Night, Bucky," Steve said against his own wall, sounding a little stuffy around the nose and Bucky thought himself the biggest idiot to have ever lived on the planet. But what was there to say?

"Yeah, you too," he replied with a tight throat and didn't get a wink of sleep.


End file.
